


Contact

by PatInTheHat



Category: Vingt mille lieues sous les mers | Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea - Jules Verne
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 22:02:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6537871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatInTheHat/pseuds/PatInTheHat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Nemo plays the organ to deal with angst and Aronnax is unintentionally infuriating</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contact

Every time Nemo makes eye contact with Aronnax, the professor drops his gaze. Gaps in conversation appear and Aronnax stares, then looks away as though he's been scolded when Nemo notices. 

He's been on the sub for weeks and Nemo still doesn't know what color his eyes are.

Eye color aside, be assured that Nemo knows about the staring. What he doesn't know is why it so unsettles him. And more perplexingly, why the habits of someone he'd picked up in the middle of the ocean should occupy his mind. He's certainly used to be stared at. He's the damn captain, after all, and he's perfectly aware of his own intimidation factor. But it's not that kind of staring and it's not that kind of issue and the question simmers inside him despite his attempts to squash it down. 

So Nemo sits at his organ and lets his fingers dance over the keys. Most people, he knows, assume he just likes the music and sure, he does, but really he plays to think. Chatter in the mind slows and loose thoughts become concrete in the form of chords and tempo and black dots of ink on the sheet music. 

So he plays and he thinks and he realizes, the thought rising with an F-major chord, that it's how Aronnax stares at him. Awestruck, he realizes, and not in the way he's used to. He's being idolized. Dealing with stares of fear and respect are one thing but to be idolized- he finds it unsettling. Furthermore, he thinks, fingers moving feverishly over the keys, it's Aronnax's guilt. The way he looks away every time. As though he thinks of himself as, somehow, less than he is. If he would commit to it, stop assuming a judgement that isn't there, stop making it some forbidden thing, it would be fine. Maybe, Nemo thinks, Maybe then I'd know what color his eyes are. 

He chastises himself as soon as the thought forms. Aronnax's eyes, whatever color they may be, don't matter. The whole train of thought is stupid and pointless. He's weak, he decides, for not abandoning the topic. He hits the final strains of the piece. Even so, his thoughts whisper, it seems important somehow. He turns to leave.

There, in the doorway, stands the very object of his thoughts looking like a terrified rabbit. 

"I'm sorry, I was just listening," He says. His eyes are, of course, cast to the floor and he's already turning to leave.

"Wait," Nemo says sharply. He winces internally at the harshness in his voice and immediately scolds himself for placing such baseless importance on a prisoner's feelings. "It's okay, you can stay. You don't have to do your- your thing."

"My... Thing?" Aronnax asks, still halfway out the door. 

"Where you look like I've scolded you every time I look back," Nemo presses a hand to his forehead. He's so bad at this, at anything addressing his own messy, inconvenient emotions. "The guilty look, the avoidance. You can stop."

Aronnax relaxes a little, though his expression remains nervous. "Okay," He says, turning awkwardly back into the room, "Would you play some more? I mean, um, if you'd still like to."

His eyes are a clear turquoise.


End file.
